It was late, I was bone weary, and my bed was soft and warm and comfortable. It seemed barely a minute after I'd laid down that there was a gentle shaking at my shoulder.
"Muzzahwhozzawhat?" I muttered articulately, and blinked bleary-eyed into the too-bright glow of a candle.
Hertha, my long-suffering wife, smiled down at me. "Work, dear," she whispered in that too quiet voice people only use before dawn breaks.
I pulled the furs up over my head. "Don't wanna."
I could hear the amusement in her voice even muffled by a layer of bear pelt. "You have to, dear. Who else will deliver these messages?"
"Oh, fine," I sighed, and swung my legs over the side of the bed before I could think about it some more. Chill air wreathed around my toes and I winced, then pulled socks and boots over and stuffed my feet into them.
Hertha lit the candles on the night stand and brought me a bowl of steaming hot soup and some bread, which I wolfed down as I scanned the job. Winterhold this time, Talos preserve me.
I tucked the message away securely and stood up, stretching. Hertha fussed over the empty dishes until I grabbed her and gave her a resounding kiss on the lips. "Get some sleep, love. I won't be back for a few days."
She nodded, uncomplaining, and suffered me to tuck her into bed. I blew the candle out and kissed her gently on the forehead, smoothing back her hair. Carefully I made my way downstairs, pulling open the door and latching it behind me.
Outside the moons were setting, the air was still and fresh. Stars sparkled overhead, the distant glimmers of a purplish aurora highlighting the horizon. I took a deep breath and set off north at a trot. Deadlines to meet, messages to deliver. Might have been nice to have a sleep-in, though...